#but don’t read my fic and then come into my inbox to tell me i’m wrong

[tawaifeddiediaz]

why do u always write your buddie characters so weirdly romantic with each other. we don't see that in canon, and i can't really see if that would be true to their character. u write good, but i just wanted u to know that.

it’s almost like…i don’t write fic for you??

the point of fic is to fill gaps we don’t/won’t see - and buddie isn’t even together, so that makes the argument of whether they’d be romantic with each other a moot point.

ah but thank you so much for telling me i write well!! really softens the blow of this ask you absolutely didn’t have to send me!!!

[bobfloydsbabe]

Begging people to understand that headcanons are a personal thing, and you don’t have to agree with mine. If you don’t think a character would do/say/be XYZ that’s fine but don’t come into my inbox and tell me why I’m wrong. Don’t like my characterization? Write your own goddamn fic.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Say I Do (m) | jjk

Summary: you and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.

Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed)

AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au

Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣

Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

Word count: 5,2k

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once).

Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I love talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘 

Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜

This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜

Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now).

This has nothing to do with my other fic 'say that again (I dare you)', but if you want to read that I'm not opposed (it's also a jjk fic) ✨

Fancy reading on AO3? 😉 

Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story. 

As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.

Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.

The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck. 

You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell. 

A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.

What the fuck is Taehyung saying?

Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.

Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.

Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.

He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.

In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion. 

As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.

Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table. 

The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips. 

With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests. 

Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression. 

As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown. 

The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences. 

Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.

In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes. 

Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment. 

Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.

Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.

The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public façade demanded by the occasion.

“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook. 

Fuck. 

All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you. 

Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends? 

In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.

With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention. 

Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests. 

As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere. 

Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.

Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy. 

Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek. 

Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.

Fucking hell he’s gonna come.

Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated. 

Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.

Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm. 

As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.

Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.

With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants. 

With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.

But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx. 

–

As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.

Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness. 

He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.

As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass. 

Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.

As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”

He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.

In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you. 

“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.

The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips. 

You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins. 

Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.

Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.

In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.” 

The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body. 

Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing. 

Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.

Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold. 

With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric. 

“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.

His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.

A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit. 

The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.

He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.

A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.

His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.

With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers. 

Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.

Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.

He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”

You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp. 

“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.

As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence. 

His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your a*s with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall. 

In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more. 

With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?” 

The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.

“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.

With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two. 

“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves. 

With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.

He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix. 

“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!” 

You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.

He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.

As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.

He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too. 

His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him. 

In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot. 

“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.

“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment. 

As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.

Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction. 

“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.

As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins. 

Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.

“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.

“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo. 

Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels. 

“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.

“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.

You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.

He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”

“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.

“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.

The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy. 

Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.

With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.

“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.

He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.

Please let me know if you liked it with a comment, reblog, and ask or whatever 💜

[aaagustd]

maid for you | min yoongi

title: maid for you

pairing: painter/vamp!yoongi x maid/vamp!(f)reader

genre/rating: smut, supernatural, 18+

summary: you can’t deny it; you’re f*cked. 

wc: 1.6k

warnings: mentions bl**d and m*rder, bl**d consumption, pet names, f*ngering, squ*rting, teasing, begging, swearing, errors maybe because i didn't look over this, let me know if i missed something

release date: march 10th, 2024; 12:09am est

note: so i was watching death’s game and got a little inspired lol. i’ve been trying to dabble in writing vampire fics so this might be a little cringe. anyway happy birthday to the loml. i’m still writing like 3 other fics for him this month, but until then… you all enjoy. divider by cafekitune.

my masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3 | inbox

“Son of a bitch.”

You nearly slip and fall right on your ass when you enter the studio. Once again, he’s brought home some innocent sack of flesh and carved them into a masterpiece. 

The fear still lingers in the scent of the scarlet liquid smeared across the floor. You push your own impulses to the back of your mind as you begin to clean up Yoongi’s mess like the “loyal” servant you are.

Not like you have a choice; it’s either this—or death.

Unlike the other creatures who have survived for eons in this world, your thirst for human blood has never been fulfilled. Though it calls your name as you drag the heavy mop across the porcelain tile, you can’t imagine indulging when you’re surrounded by humans everyday outside of this place.

You still have to live the life of someone who isn’t a freak. You aren’t some legacy put here to extend bloodlines. You’re just the product of a drunken night between strangers whose life should have ended in your twenties.

You’re just the one who didn’t die.

Every second you spend in this room makes you want to leave and never come back, but you know it is impossible. You made a deal with the devil for your life; there is no backing out.

After an hour or so, the room is spotless again. 

As you’re cleaning the last section of the floor, you notice some of Yoongi’s artwork on the wall. Your face contorts into a grimace, knowing that there are people out there purchasing these. Somebody’s family member’s bodily fluids is splashed onto a canvas and is hanging on display in some billionaire’s home. It makes you angry knowing that it should have been you. 

“Fucking asshole… I’m not cleaning this shit up anymore—Oh!”

You bump into something hard while you’re walking backwards. Thinking you’ve hit a wall, you don’t expect to see anyone when you turn around. 

“Oh, you aren’t?”

Yoongi just stands there, watching you scramble for words.

“I-I didn’t know you were here. I…That was—”

“Save it,” he interrupts.

Once you are silenced, you lower your head. You feel a bit of shame burning in your cheeks, but it’s the least of your worries if he heard everything you’ve been saying while you thought you were alone.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to snap your neck if I felt like it.”

Shit. What the hell were you thinking? 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean any of that.”

“Don’t lie,” he snaps. 

He takes a step forward, and you take one back. You try to keep a safe distance between you as if you have a chance to escape. He’d catch you before you could leave the room.

“You’re an ungrateful little bitch, you know that?”

Unfortunately, you don’t know the room as well as you thought you did because your lower back hits a table, leaving you with nowhere else to go.

“I was just venting. Tell me you aren’t that old!”

He approaches you with his arms folded, leaving only a few inches to spare. 

“Baby, you won’t live to see this age,” he boasts. “You don’t even feed yourself properly.”

“Who cares?”

He dips his fingers in a tiny drop of blood next to his tools. You scold yourself for missing something in plain sight, but you have to admit that your mind has been a little fuzzy lately.

“I used to care… But since you don't, why should I?”

You turn away when he tries to touch you with his crimson painted fingertip. The smell makes your nostrils flare, but you continue to fight the temptation. When you don’t accept his bloody digit, he places it on his tongue and savors the salty liquid coating his skin.

“Fuck you.”

“Point proven,” he concludes.

You still won’t look at him, but that doesn’t stop Yoongi from staring directly at you, observing reactions. “If you hate it so bad, why don’t you just end it?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

The couple of inches that stood between you are now gone as he steps closer. He’s so close that you’re afraid he’ll hear your thoughts if you aren’t careful. 

“What are you afraid of?... Going to hell?”

You scoff. “This is hell.”

Suddenly, he grabs your face, forcing you to look into his dark orbs. You remember them being just as hypnotizing when you met him; if only you’d known them what you know now. You would have ran in the opposite direction.

“But you love it here. Don’t you?”

You aren’t sure if your body craves his attention, or if you’re just desperate to feel something—anything to feel the emptiness inside of you.

“I do,” you utter. “Why can’t I hate you?”

Yoongi leans in, his soft lips gently grazing yours to see if you’ll flinch. You don’t move an inch, and his smirk begins to spread across his face.

“Because you want me just as bad as I want you.”

You’re still within his grasp, but too drunk with what seems like lust to pull away. You don’t want to. Every part of you wants to be his; only he understands the type of hunger you’re experiencing.

He’s the only one who’s capable of satisfying your appetite. 

“All you have to do is admit it.”

His cold touch makes you weak in your knees. You have to grip his biceps when you suddenly lose your balance, and with quickness he releases his hold and wraps an arm around your waist.

“I’m waiting,” he reminds you, and you don’t hesitate to give him your response.

“Please, just touch me.”

When you kiss him, he’s the one who melts in your arms. You hold him tightly as both of you stand there kissing and tugging at each other’s clothes. Your lips smack as they crash together, causing a sound that resonates through the room. 

You feel Yoongi’s cold hand move underneath your dress, slowly making its way to your underwear. A moan escapes your swollen lips when he finds your center, exposing your eagerness to feel him inside of you.

“Damn,” he whispers, discovering that you’re already dripping. 

His fingers tease your entrance, making you squirm with need. You beg him for more, and he doesn’t deny you.

“Please.”

“I got you,” he assures.

Your body shudders as two of his digits slip into your pussy. You can barely hold yourself because the intrusion is so overwhelming.

“Fuck, Yoongi.”

“Good?”

“Mhm.”

His thumb caresses your throbbing clit, causing more of your wetness to drip down your thighs. Your hips move in a circular motion, silently begging Yoongi for more.

It is then that he slowly begins to fuck you with his fingers, burying them up to the knuckles in your heat. You grip the table as he speeds up, knowing it won’t take much to get you off. 

Yoongi attacks your neck with his fangs; biting gently into your flesh and moaning from the taste of you.

“Feels so good,” you pant into his ear.

He curves his fingers while they’re deep inside your core, and targets your most sensitive areas. The pads of his digits rub against the rough patch of your walls with precision, and within seconds your juices are gushing everywhere.

“Shit, I’m going to cum…”

You cry out in pleasure, holding onto Yoongi with all your might as your body trembles and shakes. 

Yoongi keeps going, admiring the waterfall flowing from underneath your dress. Your eyes roll back, drool forming at the corners of your lips as you babble and whine from sensitivity. 

“Look who’s making a mess now,” Yoongi teases.

You can’t even feel embarrassed because your body is still coming down from its peak. You’re weak, too spent to defend yourself. You aren’t even sure what you’d say. What could you say?

There’s a puddle where you stand.

When Yoongi finally removes his fingers, he leaves you empty and still wanting more. Your head rests on his chest as you regain your strength.

“I didn’t kill you, did I?”

You laugh. “No.”

After the high wears off, you’re left drowning in your thoughts. They’re all over the place, but you’re certain about one thing. You’re far from satisfied, but you aren’t sure what it is that you want.

“I guess you’re leaving now,” Yoongi says, breaking the silence.

You clear your throat, thinking before you speak so your answer isn’t driven by lust. You know once you step into this world, there’s no going back. The only question on your mind is, what’s really waiting for you outside of here?

“I don’t have to.”

“Hm, is that right?”

Yoongi pulls away so he can look into your restless eyes. He can probably see the internal war going on inside of you from where he stands. You’re long past what’s right and what’s wrong. It makes no sense to keep denying the truth when it’s right in your face.

“This is driving me crazy.”

“Oh, really?” he quizzes. “...Or maybe you can’t get enough of me now?”

“A little bit of both, honestly.”

“I just don’t want you to think you don’t have any options.”

You nod. “You think I’m afraid of you?”

“Are you?”

“A little, but I’m still curious,” you answer truthfully. “What’s the worst that can happen? You turn me into a painting?”

“I might.”

You smirk. “That’s hot.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart. We should go for a ride.”

“I’d like that.”

The look he gives you could undress a nun. Hell, you struggle to keep your panties on after he winks. You smile as he kisses your forehead and your cheek before he whispers in your ear.

“Good. Now clean up my fucking floor, and meet me downstairs.”

[mvybanks]

the one where jj finds out about your ex

request: hii! I’ve been reading your fics and they’re so good!! could I request something for jj x reader? basically reader was in a toxic relationship before jj (could it be w rafe ou whatever) and now she’s with jj but still have some bad habits? like, before going out she asks if he’s okay with her clothes, keeps asking for his permission to go out with the girls and apologizes for every little thing. jj just get tired off all that and ask her why she does that and just fluff at the and.

a/n: (slowly trying to write the requests in my inbox) thank you so much, love <333 i love this request and i hope i did it justice!!

warnings: toxic, manipulative and misogynistic ex, insecure and innocent reader

my masterlist

add yourself to my taglist <3

“j, is it okay if i wear this tonight?” you mindlessly ask your boyfriend as you walk into the living room.

it’s a genuine question; your top and your skirt are a bit revealing, so it’s only right he gets a say in what you’re wearing before you go out, right?

he looks at you from his position on the couch, cocking an eyebrow in confusion, “uhm, you might feel a little cold but don’t worry, you can wear my jacket. you look so beautiful,” he walks over to you and places his hands on your hips.

“no, not that,” you giggle, “i mean, there’s going to be lots of people tonight. is it okay with you if i wear something like this? i can change if you-“

“what the hell are you talking about?” he chuckles, thinking you’re messing with him.

you furrow your eyebrows, “i’m sorry, i didn’t want to make you mad. i just thought that maybe the clothes are a bit revealing and i didn’t want to upset you.”

this is the last straw for him. you and jj have been dating for two months and everything seems great, except for moments like this and he’s had enough; he wants to know why you think he would ever control your life. was it something he did that makes you believe that? does he have a reputation he doesn’t know about?

“that’s it,” he says as his hands fall off your hips, “what’s going on? you ask me for permission when you want to go out, you apologize for things that aren’t even your fault and now you’re telling me you think i want to control what you wear? is that what you think i am like? some kind of monster who wants to manipulate you?”

monster. manipulate.

is that what that was? that wasn’t how a relationship works?

“he used to say that it was normal in a relationship,” you whisper, avoiding his eyes.

his hand gently cradles your face, forcing you to look at him, “who? who used to say that, baby?”

“my ex…rafe.”

jj’s jaw clenches and suddenly his hand closes into a fist. of course he was your abusive ex; he took advantage of your innocence and ruined you, just like he always did. it’s in this moment that jj makes a promise to himself: he’s not going to let anyone do that to you again.

“listen to me, baby,” he starts, trying to keep his voice calm although the thought of what your ex has done to you is making him go mad, “i’m your boyfriend; my job’s to take care of you and make sure you’re safe and happy. that’s it. i don’t control your life, and if someone ever tells you otherwise, you tell them to come to me and i’ll handle them.”

you look up at him, his eyes full of adoration and something you can’t really put a name to it, “he used to say that it was my fault if guys flirted with me. i dressed like i-“ you take a shaky breath, the memory of his harsh words making your eyes water, “like i was asking for it. and he called me some names…”

jj wraps his arms around you, holding you close, before he kisses the side of your head, “he won’t be able to do that again. i promise you, baby.”

you sniffle and twist your neck in order to see his face again, “so…i guess i won’t have to change, right?” you chuckle, trying to lighten up the mood.

“no, you don’t, baby,” he smiles, “you wear anything you want, or nothing at all if you want, i can fight.”

taglist:

@jjmaybankisbae @rosie-cameron @idli-dosa @notslay-norcleor @ry1ssa @jjgirl4eva @poppet05 @jjsmads @solargazes @cindersnightmare @fairlymax @chaostudee @Isabellaheulwen @fictionlife4ever @alinag11 @neteyamo

[coco-loco-nut]

Choices

pairing: logan x reader, pato o’ward x reader

summary: when your first love comes back into your life, you are stuck between two choices.

a/n: please enjoy my drunk, post-indy, fic idea (i wrote most of the plot while drunk at the bar. college towns are great guys 😂)

masterlist

———————

“I am so proud of you, amor!” Pato hugs you as soon as he sees you after your graduation. He’s been supporting you since you joined the team as an undergraduate engineering last summer with Arrow McLaren.

“I couldn’t have done it without your support, Pato,” you smile, admiring your boyfriend. He would make sure to visit you when he got the chance, and he always picked up when you called needing to vent or asking for motivation. Your lock screen was a picture of the two of you at a hockey game you snuck him into the student section for, he showed up as a surprise that weekend to help you relax.

“Don’t say that, you got this because of your own merit. The guys send their congratulations, by the way,” Pato tells you. The only people who know about you dating are the other drivers, you didn’t want to risk your internship.

“I hope they aren’t too tired of me, I just accepted an offer for a full time position,” you tell him what you’ve been keeping secret the past few months.

“You deserve it. Does that mean you will be coming to Indy with me?” Pato asks, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.

“Of course. Now, let’s find my parents, I know they will want pictures,” you kiss Pato quickly before looking for your parents. He spots them waiting a few yards away and pulls you over. They have to leave after a celebratory lunch, but Pato stays to help you finish packing up your apartment. You utilize his muscles for putting things in your U-Haul trailer. He even manages to convince you to let him drive to Indianapolis with you.

It doesn’t take you long to settle in with the team that year. Your coworkers throw you a 23rd birthday party the next spring, inviting everyone who worked in the garage (including the drivers) to celebrate. You worked your tail off proving why you deserve to be there and they said you deserve to let loose before the summer.

Later that second summer you are on a date with Pato for your two year anniversary when you get a call from your boss offering a promotion, which you quickly accept.

“You deserve it, you’ve worked so hard,” Pato reaches across the table, grabbing your hand and squeezing it.

“Your support makes it possible, babe,” you reply, squeezing his hand back. You are so helplessly in love with him. At the end of the season, Pato has a ring picked out and he had a plan before he is flown out to Abu Dahbi to drive in free practice for Formula One.

Unbeknownst to Pato, while he is away you are asked to join a virtual meeting with some higher up engineers at McLaren.

“We’d like you to join our Formula One team as we finish developing next year’s car. We will assist in your relocation, all you need to do is say yes,” the offer is virtually laid in front of you. Your mind immediately goes to Pato.

“When do you need an answer?” you ask, making sure you don’t sound disinterested.

“Two days,” they say and you nod.

“I’ll have my decision into you by then. Thank you so much for the opportunity,” you tell them, mulling it over in your brain. A copy of the details pops up in your inbox.

“We hope you say yes,” they tell you as you leave the call.

As you read the document, you know what your answer is going to be. The next day Pato returns and you go for a walk through the local park.

“Will you marry me?” Pato blurts and your heart drops.

“Patricio-,” you start and he cuts you off.

“I know, we are young but-,” this time you cut him off.

“I’m moving to England. McLaren wants me to move to the F1 team, and they are offering to pay for me to get my Masters as well as helping with my relocation, and the money is good,” you start to ramble but stop when the hurt in his eyes matches the hurt in your heart.

“Mi amor, I can support you here, I have enough money for both of us,” he says, praying you didn’t accept yet.

“Babe, I know, but I have to do it for myself. I have to accept the job,” you say, silently pleading that he understands.

“What about us,” tears start rolling down his cheeks.

“I don’t know, Patricio,” tears form in your eyes as you say his name softly, he loves it when you call him by his full name.

“We can make it work,” Pato says, despite both of you knowing it won’t.

“Pato,” your voice cracks with emotion. The two of you know what has to happen.

“I know. At least keep this, it’s only meant for you. Maybe one day it will be on its rightful place,” he pulls out the ring and shows it to you. That’s when the tears flow, and he pulls you into him.

“Please don’t think that I don’t love you. I would say yes a million times if it wasn’t for this offer. This is the hardest decision I’ve ever made,” you cry as he holds you tight.

“I know. I love you more than you know,” he whispers. He walks you back to your apartment, leaving you with a heartfelt kiss goodbye. A few days later you are gone.

When you meet Lando and Oscar, you are wary of them, they remind you too much of Pato, but it only takes a week for them to crack your shell. They saw how sad you were and learned how young you are and immediately wanted to get to know the new American on the team.

You carefully balance work and classes, wishing you could pick up the phone and call Pato, but you can’t. Instead, you fiddle with the ring you keep on a chain around your neck, you added a P charm to the necklace.

“Y/n! I want you to meet Logan, he’s American too,” Oscar drags a blonde boy into the motorhome behind him during testing. You look up from your coursework and offer a welcoming smile.

“There aren’t many Americans around, are there?” you jokingly ask, motioning for Logan to sit down.

“No. So where are you from?” Logan asks as you quickly mark where you are at. Oscar slips out of the room, hoping his matchmaking skills worked as you tell Logan about your start in Indycar.

Oscar failed at first, you were determined to keep Logan in the friend zone. But he broke down your walls and somehow convinced you to date him a couple months later.

Everything goes smoothly from late May until October when COTA comes around. You visit your family the week before the race, and that’s when your mother drops a bomb.

“What are you going to do when you see Pato this weekend?” she asks.

“What?”

“Didn’t you see? Pato is driving free practice at COTA and Mexico,” your mom tells you and you feel your stomach flip, it takes everything in you to not reach for the ring around your neck.

“No, I must’ve missed that email,” you say softly. You do really love Logan, but there is a reason you can’t bring yourself to take off the necklace unless you are with Logan. There’s been times when you have wanted to tell him, Oscar, and Lando about Pato, but you never do, it’s too painful.

You arrive at COTA and it’s clear something is off, but you brush every question off. Pato arrives the same way, nervous to see you again. He is wearing a hair tie on his wrist, one that you left behind. He wears it for the same reason you wear the ring.

“Oh! One of our engineers is from America, used to work in IndyCar. Maybe you know her,” Lando says to Pato, not picking up on Pato’s uncomfortableness as Lando drags him around. It’s odd for the Mexican driver to be uncomfortable.

“Y/n, hi,” Pato awkwardly and breathlessly says, you almost drop your tablet from where you are standing in the garage. How is it possible for him to look this good.

“Patricio, hi. How are you doing? Tough luck on the 500, I meant to text you,” you say softly, setting the tablet down and approaching him and Lando. He can barely breathe, to him you’ve only gotten more beautiful.

“Thanks, it’s okay, I’ll get it next year. Maybe I would’ve won if you were there,” Pato ruefully smiles, your heart drops.

“Maybe, but don’t think like that. You’ve always been okay driving without me,” you match his rueful smile. Lando looks between you, a little confused. Pato goes to say something, noticing a P sticking out of the collar of your shirt where a necklace is, but Oscar interrupts.

“Hey, Logan is looking for you outside,” Oscar tells you, you can’t suppress the happy look on your face.

“It was nice talking to you again, Pato,” you tell the Mexican and quickly exit towards where Logan is waiting.

“How do you know her?” oscar asks suspiciously, picking up the longing look Pato is giving you.

“She’s my ex, she broke up with me when she moved to formula one. We were going to get married,” Lando cringes. he remembers how sad you were when you joined the team, it’s why he befriended you. “Who is Logan?” Pato asks Oscar, feeling like he’s missing something.

“Her boyfriend,” Oscar says, feeling the urge to defend his best friend and engineer, but also wanting to crawl in a hole and die.

“That’s something you need to talk about with her, if it makes any difference, she was unhappy for a long time after moving here,” Lando says, ending that topic.

Pato nods, turning his focus to the drive. Luckily for you, you are currently one of Lando’s engineers, so you are busy with him all weekend.

“Y/n, we should talk,” Pato approaches you carefully.

“Pato,” you say his name warily, it’s like a dagger to his heart.

“Please. Come with me to Mexico. I won’t try anything out of respect to your boyfriend, but we both deserve to talk about some stuff. Plus, Mami and Elba miss you,” Pato says and you pause to think about it.

“San Antonio is on the way,” you think out loud, still mulling it over.

“It’s just tomorrow that we’d be there, leaving first think Tuesday morning to get to the track on time,” Pato insists. Even if it’s a bad idea, almost all of you wants to go.

“Okay, I’ll join you,” you relent, and he almost hugs you.

“I’ll drive you from the hotel,” Pato says, turning to leave before turning around again. “You will have to unblock my number so I can text you,” he adds and you fight the smile playing on your lips.

“I never blocked you, Patricio,” you admit, and his heart melts at how you say his name.

“Oh, I will see you soon then,” he says, not quite sure how to reply, leaving you to pack you backpack.

“You okay?” Lando asks and you shoot him a weird look.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We know you used to date him,” Lando says and your eyes widen.

“We?”

“Oscar and I, yeah. Wait, you aren’t even denying it,”

“I broke up with him to take the job here when he was proposing even when I wanted to say yes, we dated most of the time I was at Arrow McLaren, I still wear his ring and initial on a necklace,” you blurt, knowing Lando isn’t going to judge too much.

“Oh. Wow, ok. Is it a nice ring?” Lando asks and you tug the chain, pulling it in front of your polo. “He has good taste. What were you talking about?” Lando pushes further as you tuck the chain behind your polo again.

“I’m going to San Antonio with him tonight and tomorrow,” you say, needing someone to confide in that isn’t your college friends.

“Does Logan know?” Lando asks and you shake you head.

“That’s the next step, once you are done asking questions,” you bump his shoulder lightly.

“No, like, does he know about your history with Pato,” Lando asks, glad Oscar isn’t around.

“No, I can never bring myself to tell him. I think we both know that we might not last past this season,” you admit. Logan and you had said as much to each other a couple weeks ago. He admitted that he isn’t sure where he sees it going after the season.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Lando pauses, thinking about it.

“Don’t be, he knows that I had just gotten out of a serious relationship when we became friends and I know he isn’t ready for something long term yet. Obviously I’m still going to try to make things work, because I do love him, but I’m also going to take comfort in knowing that we tried,” you pull your backpack over your shoulders. Lando says a quick goodbye before you walk out to find Logan’s rental car where he is waiting.

“Hey sweetie,” he kisses you when you get in. Any tension in your body leaves when you see him.

“Hi, Lo, ready to get back to the hotel?” you ask as he backs out of the space.

“So ready, I just want cuddles and a nap,” Logan groans a little, you reach up and play with the ends of his hair as he drives. Despite you having a room from McLaren, you are staying with Logan in his room this race weekend.

“That sounds perfect,” you admire the way the sun makes his hair look lighter and his blue eyes clearer. You change while he takes a quick shower, tucking the necklace into a pocket in your backpack.

“Don’t go to San Antonio with Pato,” Logan says suddenly while you lay in bed with him.

“What?”

“Come with me back to Fort Lauderdale instead, please. I heard Pato tell Oscar that you were joining him, and I know your history with him even if you didn’t explicitly tell me. And I get it, it must be hard to bring up. I don’t want to lose you, I love you,” Logan whispers and you feel your gut twist as you are left with a choice.

Logan offers you a chance to start fresh and continue the new relationship you built, but Pato offers the chance to rekindle an old flame that never quite burnt out. How the hell are you going to choose.

[reiderwriter]

♦️Pardon The Way That I Stare♦️

Chapter 8 of That's What You Get

Prev Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: After some encouragement from Emily and Penelope, you try to explain your reaction to Reid at work. Until you find yourself reacting to him more and more, distracting you from doing your job. Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, Reader is just really horny for Reid (REAL). A/N: We're getting closer to the climax and I'm SO beyond excited for everyone to read the next chapter because I think it's going to be so good but also so evil and I enjoy that very much. If you like the series, let me know by dropping a message in the replies or in my inbox, and follow my other account @reiderslibrary for just fics from me without my random thoughts and bullshit in between... You can find masterlist here, and the series masterlist is linked here!

You were stupid, there was no other logical explanation for it. Staring at Emily on your doorstep as your brain stood there, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, trying to process the words she’d just said to you, there was really only one thing running through your brain.

“I’m a fucking dumbass.” you groaned, your hands coming up to your head as you pondered your next move.

“There’s no chance that you’ll believe this was all just one practical joke that I’ve been playing to test how quickly you could turn up at my place with wine?” You looked up hopefully at Emily, and she returned with a concerned look of her own, that silently communicated ‘No, I wasn’t born yesterday.’

“Worth a shot, come on in.” You opened the door wider for Emily and grabbed a second glass from your kitchen to share the wine before she could start her interrogation.

“So,” she prompted as soon as you returned to the couch, and you sighed heavily as you nodded and began.

“I married Reid in Vegas.”

“Yes, I got that from the text, what I didn’t get was why, what, when, where, who, and how! Question words, Y/N, important information if you please.” You chuckled at Emily’s tone, and you melted a little into your couch. Just like with Penelope, letting others know had comforted you. You’d never been one to bottle up your emotions, and you couldn’t exactly tell Spencer how you felt about him, so your dearest FBI-assigned best friends were a welcome compromise.

“You promise not to tell anyone? Penelope knows, and so does Rossi, but no one else does. Well maybe someone else but I don’t know who that someone is - long story.” You rambled, still aware of the promise you’d made with Spencer, and knowing that you’d actually broken it twice now.

“Scouts honor, now get on with it.”

“You were never a scout.”

“That’s beside the point, Y/N, now spill!”

“Do you remember when we finished the case in Vegas last weekend, and we all wanted nothing more than to go home, but the jet was landed?” A small nod encourages you to continue. “Well, Reid offered to show me this bar that he thought I’d enjoy, and honestly, I’d had a tense phone call with my mom and was feeling a bit crappy, so I thought a drink wouldn’t hurt.”

“A drink might get you married though.” You glared at her at the interruption, and she held her hands up in surrender as you continued.

“The bar was amazing, and he noticed I was feeling down, and I don’t know, he just has this way of making me feel calm and fully together. I was a mess earlier that day, but with like one short conversation, he kind of turned my mood entirely around.” You flushed then and decided to ignore Emily’s next interjection.

“Oh god…”

“Apparently after that, we went to a casino or another bar or something, but honestly, I drank so much I don’t remember any of that. But at some point, we bought a very expensive engagement ring, made our way to the Bureau for Wedding Licences and then a chapel and now we’re legally married.” You tried to end your story there, but Emily wasn’t having that.

“No, you’re not stopping there. You said you kissed, and you ruined everything, and you mentioned a wedding night in that text, do not shortchange me now, Y/L/N. Wait, should I be calling you Reid now?” She grinned at the flush that coated your entire body with that, and you buried your head in your pillows.

“Okay, okay. Well, we’re trying to figure out who the witnesses to our wedding were. We know that two team members were there, and Penelope was one of them, but Spencer doesn’t know that yet. Again, another long story.” You let your words sink in as you realize the tangled mess you’d spun for yourself in the last week.

“We spent some time researching our options on Saturday night, to see if we could get our memories to come back and I might not have left until a couple hours ago?”

“Y/N! You’ve been banging Reid for the last three days?”

“No! No, nothing like that, we didn’t- well, we did just not at his house, but also I don’t think you want to hear about that.” You spilled all the details about your last few days with Reid, his touches, his care, the dates you’d been on, the way you’d wrapped yourself around each other in your sleep, but still woken up to an empty bed, all the way up to that fateful kiss and your stupid reaction.

“So there, I’ve ruined it.” Emily looked at you pityingly and started to say something when your doorbell rang a second time.

“That’s reinforcements,” Emily said, standing and moving to greet the newcomer herself. You were relieved when Penelope Garcia came marching through the door, ice cream in hand and mouth already moving.

“Have no fear, your guardian angel is here. Emily texted me en route and I disentangled myself from my plans with a now very suspicious Derek Morgan to race over here. I think I managed to throw him off the scent by mentioning my ukelele lessons with Sam though, he always kinda glazes over whenever I go into heavy details about that.” She perches herself on the couch beside you and starts organizing things on the table, pulling out three tubs of ice cream and locating adequate spoons in the drawer.

“Pen, you didn’t have to do all this…”

“Yes, I did. Emily tell her I did. I need all the details that you suddenly remembered Y/N or I’m going to go crazy, and let me tell you, I am not an effective tech analyst when my mind is all aflutter with wonder.” You smiled awkwardly at the situation. You’d glossed over the details of your wedding night with Emily, going no further than insinuating that you’d had sex, but now the pressure was on.

“We just want to help you, Y/N. And we’re morbidly curious.” Emily joined in. Both of their eyes were trained on you in a hopeful expression, leaving the ball firmly in your court as you fought down the embarrassment rising from the back of your throat.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath.

“I think it was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life,” was all you managed to squeak out before they were reacting, asking twenty questions each in the space of a minute as your body both caught fire at the memory and shrunk down to the size of an ant at the attentions.

“Calm down, calm down, I’ll tell you more but you have to calm down.” They stilled themselves and bit their tongue, and you continued.

“Well I don’t want to get into the, uh, specific details, but let’s just say that he’s very good at putting theory into practice. That or he’s actually very experienced in sex and nobody ever realized, because the things he was doing were like, expert-level maneuvers. I didn’t think I was that flexible until he was hitting from-”

“OKAY not that much detail, this is still Reid we’re talking about.”

“Sorry,” you giggled sheepishly and decided to spare them all the details. “All I’ll say is that we both finished multiple times. And I might have stupidly let him finish inside of me.”

“Y/N, you should know better! Safe sex is really important, especially if you’re fucking in a hotel room in Vegas.” Emily half-chastised you, but you could hear the humor in her voice and just rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t exactly having sex with a stranger, I was having sex with my husband.” That got you a teasing cooing from the two women and you buried your face in your hands again.

“So he’s your husband now, is he? How long have you been married? Like three days?”

“Five. Fuck, we’re running out of time.” The length of time that had elapsed since you’d walked down the aisle shocked you as soon as you’d acknowledged it, and you downed your glass of wine as your brain ran rampant.

“Rossi said that if we didn’t tell everyone in a week, he’d do it for us so we didn’t lose our jobs, and we need to file for an annulment soon so we don’t have to get a divorce but there’s like… a one week window, and it’s already been five days. Shit. shit shit shit shit.”

“Hold on, Y/N, you said he kissed you earlier today, right? I wouldn’t exactly recommend getting married and then dating your partner, but it sounds like you both at least like each other enough to pursue this relationship, why would you need an annulment?” Emily’s confusion only served to remind you of the reason they were both here in the first place.

“That’s the problem. I think he thinks I don’t like him like that. And it’s totally my fault that he thinks that, because when he kissed me I didn’t react well and then he just left, and I think I ruined everything.”

“Define not reacting well,” Emily probed further.

“I pushed him away and slammed the door in his face. But that was only because I remembered everything that happened between us on our wedding night, and remembering the most satisfying experience of your entire existence while face-to-face with the man who you’d hitherto never thought capable of that, and having it occur in like 0.02 of a second is a paralyzing experience.”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot,” Penelope whispered from her side of the couch and you nodded heartily in agreement.

“And what, he just left?” Emily asked again, tone incredulous with all the information she was receiving.

“Well when I’d had my moment and realized what I’d done, I opened the door again and he wasn’t there. And that was only like a minute later. He messaged me this after he left.” You grabbed your phone and opened it up, showing the girls the message and noting their winces in reaction to his words.

“It’s bad, right?”

“No! No, this is salvageable! You just have to… be brave?” Penelope didn’t seem to believe her own words as you pulled your phone back and poured yourself another glass, ready to drown your sorrows once again. Emily was a little more confident.

“Okay. Here’s what you do. I’m going to talk to Rossi for you tomorrow morning at work, get him to hold off on his big reveal while you go and explain everything to Spencer. How does that sound?”

“That sounds doable, I guess.” You sniffled a little, rereading the text having made your emotions jump back up to the surface again as you fought off tears.

“Brilliant. And then you can stay married and continue having wonderful sex, and make some genius babies and make me their godmother.” You threw a pillow at Penelope that she was just too slow to catch, and filled the rest of your evening with wine, ice cream, and good company.

–X–

Emily sends you a thumbs-up text after she talks to Rossi the next morning, and a weight falls off your shoulder. One step down, one to go right?

You’d arrived at work probably a little bit too early, having spent the night tossing and turning and playing every possible outcome in your mind over and over again. It had been half an hour before the next person turned up, and Hotch had only given you a confused half-nod in greeting before secluding himself in his office. Rossi had been the next to arrive, about twenty minutes later, and he too had questioned your presence but not in so many words.

“Early morning, Y/N? Settling into new routines in your newly-wed life, are we?” You’d stuttered out an answer but he was halfway up the stairs by the time you finished, obviously meaning the comment to be rhetorical.

Morgan, Emily, and JJ were all next, showing up only a few minutes before your shift officially started, but there was no sign of Reid, and you were running out of time - and privacy - to talk to him.

Then at 9 sharp the elevator doors opened, and from your seat at your desk, you watched him step out, feeling your tongue grow thick and your heart beat faster as he made his way into the office. This wasn’t how you were supposed to feel, this was cartoonish like a teenage boy in a brat pack movie watching the hottest girl in the school walk down a corridor. This was Spencer, your husband, and your best friend, and here you were feeling giggly and shy.

You almost felt like texting Emily back, telling her if you started giggling and twirling your hair, to take you out back and put you out of your misery.

He didn’t make eye contact with you as he settled into his morning routine, pulling off his scarf, putting his bag away, and then moving to the kitchen to fill up on his morning coffee. You did your best to covertly follow him, trying not to alert the others to your heart eyes as you looked at him and forgot everyone else.

“Spencer, can we talk?” You blocked off the entry to the kitchen as he spun around to face you, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips.

“Sure, Y/N, what’s up?” His voice didn’t betray any of his emotions, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and you could tell you’d hurt him the day before. You took a deep breath and walked closer to him as he continued making his coffee, again refusing to look you in the eyes as he continued as normal.

“It’s about yesterday-”

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this here, right?” He cut you off in a whisper, his voice sending shivers down your spine as you gripped the countertop beside him for support. You’d gotten closer than you expected at first, somehow magnetically drawn to him, your body language just as open to him as he was closed to you.

“I think we need to, Spence. I’m sorry, I panicked.”

“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have done that-”

“Spencer I got my memory back.” His eyes widened and he blossomed in front of you again, attention entirely on you now as he took in your words.

“You did?”

“Partially, only the… Only the memories of your hotel room.” His eyes darkened in understanding, moving unconsciously closer to you, placing a hand next to yours on the counter as he effectively trapped your body in.

“Oh. Those memories.”

“Yeah. So you can see why I was a bit distracted.” He nodded at your words, but he was still coming closer to you now. Your body felt weak underneath you, entirely reacting to his closeness, the warmth rolling off his body, the electricity sparking between you despite him not touching you anywhere.

“Distracted?” His eyes darted to your lips as he grew closer, and your legs chose that exact second to give in underneath you.

Your knees hit the ground uncomfortably, as he reacted to your sudden movement, trying to grab you and pull you up, but only managing to grab the hand that was already holding the counter above you, awkwardly twisting and pinning your arm up.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I’m sorry, I think… I think I should go,” you were face to face with his crotch, and looking up at him in that position was certainly giving you unwholesome thoughts. He jumped back as you scrambled out from underneath him, begging whatever god was out there that none of the profilers you worked with would question the dazed state that would follow you for the rest of the day.

–X–

Despite your need to straighten things out with Spencer, you’d avoided him for the rest of the day, and, having been called out on a case, you spent the better part of the week avoiding him as well. After literally falling for him, you’d decided that maybe in your newly weakened lovesick stage, it was best for everyone on the team that you try to stay as clear-headed as possible.

Not everyone on the team, though, agreed. He’d trailed after you like a lost puppy for days now, and you wanted nothing more than to give in and throw yourself in his arms. But there was a murderer on the loose and you needed to give your entire attention to it.

He’d tried multiple times to get you to help him with some work, suggesting that you go through some files together, or check out one of the witnesses together, much to your discomfort. Luckily, Hotch had picked up on some of the discomfort between the two of you and had kept you somewhat apart, not asking questions.

But the last night on the case, he’d cornered you, and you had to work twice as hard to extricate yourself from the situation.

“Y/N, why are you avoiding me?” He’d caught you alone in the hotel lobby, pulling you into a dark corner without much foot traffic to confront you. “Is it because of the kiss? Because the way you talked about getting your memories back the other day made me think we were okay about that again, but if we’re not then I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not the kiss, Spence, and we really shouldn’t be talking about this here.” You tried to turn and leave, but he grabbed your elbow and spun you back into him, bodies pressed flush up against each other now.

“Spencer let go, someone could see us.” Even you knew your voice sounded half-hearted, not really wanting him to stop touching you at all.

“If it’s not the kiss, then why are you acting like I don’t exist?” His face was close again, and you felt your body reacting the same way it had done in the staff kitchen. Your knees went weak again, but he was prepared this time, holding you up in his arms, gently maneuvering you so you were pinned against the wall.

“Is this it?” He asked, letting his hands trail over your body as you whimpered under his touch. “Your reactions?”

Your brain was empty of a response, so you just held still, desperate to see what he would do or say next.

“You know, the deadline on our annulment has passed. It’s been over a week now,” he said, his forehead resting on yours as he brought his hips ever closer.

You were the one that gave in first, pushing your head up to capture his lips in a crushing kiss, needing him the way you needed water, food, and sleep. You’d deprived yourself for so long, and now you were hungry, ravenous, and he was the same. Your lips opened, and soon his tongue was snaking in, caressing you in ways both familiar and new, and your entire body heated up to its boiling point.

You moaned under his touch as his hands wandered, silently begging for more of him. Your brain only kicked back into gear when you registered the sound of voices about to turn the corner. Quickly pushing him off, you pulled yourself together just as JJ and Morgan found you there.

“Y/N, Reid, Garcia got a positive ID on our unsub, we’re about to go SWAT his house, get your gear ready.”

Either you were very good at masking your emotions and the physical outburst you’d just shared, or Morgan was just too caught up in getting his job done that he didn’t look too closely at the way Reid’s tie was half undone, your lips were pink and swollen and that both of you were breathing abnormally. Whichever it was, you were just thankful that neither of them questioned you as you all left to go and do your job.

–X–

To your detriment, you’d avoided him on the jet back as well, choosing to wrap a blanket around yourself and sit in a single seat at the end of the plane rather than risk his hands on you again like last time. You already couldn’t be trusted around him, and you wanted to take no risks with everyone else present.

He’d sat in your line of vision purposefully though, making eye contact every now and then to remind you that he was still watching you. You’d feigned exhaustion and pretended to sleep in the end, despite the flight duration only being a measly two hours. He’d let you exit the plane alone though, and said a general goodbye to the team upon landing, giving you a second look and wave before taking himself home.

The ball was firmly in your court.

“What the hell was all that?” Emily whispered in your ear as you both watched him leave alone. “What happened to the plan?” You smiled awkwardly, not wanting to admit how fucking horny the man made you feel, and how it was affecting your work performance so badly that avoiding him was the only way to keep your job.

“We had the talk, everything’s fine.”

“The two of you aren’t walking out of here hand in hand, so obviously everything is not fine, Penelope, tell me I’m wrong.” The other woman had stumbled into the bullpen upon landing and Emily had immediately drawn her into your hushed conversation as soon as Morgan had made to go home as well.

“What’s going on, hot stuff, I thought you’d be enjoying every second of your marital bliss by now.”

“He’s too distracting.” You whisper shouted at him. “He kissed me again last night and I almost let him take me in the lobby. And Morgan and JJ almost caught us, so yeah, he’s too distracting.”

“Oh god, you’re horny for Reid.” Emily laughed slightly at the implication as if it had just dawned on her and you hadn’t had an entire conversation where you fawned about how good in bed he was.

“Yes, I’m horny for Reid, okay, now please stop laughing, I’m in pain.”

“Well you know there’s only one solution, right?” Penelope said as if it were clear as day. “You need to go have sex with him again. See if you can be normal with him when you’re not so pent up.”

“I don’t know, Pen….” You were still staring at the elevator doors, even after it had been so long since he’d left.

“What is there to not know? You like him, he likes you, you’re married. Like you said before, it’s not like you’re having sex with a stranger, he’s your husband.” Having your words thrown back in your face gave you the boost of confidence that you needed, and you sprang from your chair.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Emily repeated and you looked back down at the two women.

“Okay, I’m gonna… I’m gonna go seduce my husband, I guess?” You turned on your heel and left, marching out to the sounds of whoops and cheers from the two women behind you.

🏷️ @w-windyy @multifandom-on-the-side @reidandhotchsgirl @babybluecakes @hugyourlungs @prentissesredtanktop @reidscaffeine @bethanyhaas01 @average-sunflower @academiareid @sailortongue @daddy-dotcom @high-functioning-cosplayer @anniewhalelover @abbyshmaby @isabel-ffl-xoxo @sujan39 @frxcless @bluestuesday @busy-buzzing @breadbrobin @maxinehufflepuffprincess @l0v3cam @booksandwonderlands @myescapefromthislife @ferrjulie @scoobydoopoo @aelinismyqueen @littlesingingbean @jamiemuscatosslut @xohoneybun @anchovy89freya @dysphoricsanity @ghostheartbeat @casss2111 @rebloggiest-reblogger @wishyoudaskme @imawhoreforu @academiacoffeelover @softservepunk @andiebeaword @r-3dlips @wakaladjarin @ratbastardchild @mcira @danika1994 @stargurl99 @whovianwholikesgirls @its-not-too-late-for-coffee

[absfawn]

Moving to Ao3- yall ruined the tags

This is going to be the only ask i reply to before i turn off my inbox. I do not have the time to deal with the pettiness and childlike behavouiour from any of you.

We didn’t ruin anything for you. We just got sick and fucking tired of the constant, blatant igorance from most of you. We didn’t do anything for you to feel like this. The fact you can sit there, take like 4 seconds to send me this ask, makes me laugh because why is reading any type of fic the first thing on your mind? When you could have spent those seconds spreading awareness and use your platform on the Genocide that is happening right now? We didn’t do anything for you to hate the tag, but there comes a point where people get tired of people acting like they are better than others. We shouldn’t have to call out other blogs for being silent, but it’s come to that. Posting, reblogging a constant stream of fics? DURING a global strike that HAS been spoken about since LAST month? You’re for real going to sit there and tell me, you DIDN’T Know? Get out. 

Innocent children, women, men, even animals are being murdered every single fucking day. They are being taken away from their families, some don’t even have one anymore, each fucking day, more than you can imagine and you’re going to have the BALLS to come into my inbox and fucking tell me we’ve ruined the tag? If half of you didn’t ignore the strike or post during it, we wouldn’t have had to call most of you out. Also, who the fuck cares about the tag? I haven’t been in any tags apart from the Palestine tags for months. In tags where you should be. Spreading awareness. 

Coming to a blog, that has stated multiple times that i will only be posting about Palestine, to tell me we’ve ruined the tags for you. Get a fucking life. I’m sorry that you’ve come to the conclusion that smut intake and fic intake are the only things you truly give a shit about. Just to be clear, if that’s all you care about. Never come to my blog again.

I truly thought people would have gotten together and tried to help people who really fucking need it right now. I thought blogs and platforms could come together and help in anyway we can, but half the time, you fucking prove time and time again, that half of you don’t care. And that’s fucking disgusting. 

I’m done with people who don’t care.

Unfollow me, block me, but i don’t want Zionists on my blog.

FREE PALESTINE

PALESTINE MASTERPOST | HOW TO HELP | DONATE TO PALESTINE | BOYCOTT | DO NOT BUY TLOU2 REMASTERED

[barleyo]

Your Miguel x Reader fic was so freaking good!! I'd love to read more from you, especially Miguel x Shy!Reader (the personality of y/n kinda ressembles mine lol)! Anyways, thank you so much and keep up the great work!

Next Time.

(Miguel O'Hara X Fem! Reader)

A/N: Sorry, this is just a drabble and isn't nearly as long as my OG fic, but I hope you still enjoy it! Feel free to send a request to my inbox, as my requests are always open.

“No, no, no,” (Y/N) sighed, staring at the broken glass shards in front of her. 

She had been getting better, she really had. With careful supervision by Miguel and a steady hand, she had been able to limit her accidents. However, her clumsiness seemed to always lurk, waiting to strike at the most inopportune time. 

“Okay, maybe I can just pick them up,” she whispered to herself. Carefully, she wiped at the pieces, sweeping the smaller pieces into a nearby waste basket. 

“Everything okay over here?” He walked over, leaning onto her workstation just as she finished grabbing a final large piece of glass. She quickly palmed the piece, clenching it behind her back. “Thought I heard something break, no?”

“No, no, nothing is going on over here, just, uhm, cleaning up. I’m just about to pack up and head home for the day.” (Y/N) squeaked, feeling the shard slice her palm with a sharp sting. 

“Whatever you say,” he said. Unconvinced, Miguel turned around, pretending to walk away. 

Once he made it a few paces away, (Y/N) pulled her hand back around and paled at the blood dripping down her palm. The glass was lodged right in the middle of her palm, jaggedly stuck into it. 

“I knew it,” he groaned, snatching her hand away, “look at how bad that is. Are you kidding me? Come here.” He dragged her out to the hallway until she started to shake him off.

“You’re embarrassing me  in front of everyone, Miguel. Stop, I promise, it’s not nearly that bad, it’s okay! Promise!”

“If it’s not that bad, why were you hiding it? Why is it bleeding? Damn it, you have glass stuck half an inch deep into your hand. Come, now.” He gently swooped her up into a messy bridal-style hold, carrying her into the break room. 

He sat her down on the counter right next to the sink, legs hanging over the side. 

“Duck.”

She bobbed her head down in compliance as he dug through the cabinet behind her, pulling out gauze, tweezers, and disinfecting liquid. Taking the tweezers, he attempted to pull the glass out, wiggling it slightly until it dislodged itself for her palm.

“I just don’t get it,” he sighed frustratedly, “why wouldn’t you just tell me you got hurt?”

“I didn’t want to tell you, I don’t know,” she wiped her face with her uninjured hand, “I was just doing so well, and I messed it up when I broke that beaker.” 

“But why?” He opened the bottle and looked up to meet her eyes, “Hold onto my hand, this will sting.” He drenched the wound and (Y/N) squeezed down onto his hand, digging her nails into it. 

“I guess I didn’t want you to be upset with me, I thought you’d be mad,” she said through gritted teeth. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No, claro que no. Well, no, yes, I am a bit upset with you. You hurt yourself instead of just telling me and letting me help. I would have cleaned it up for you, you know.”

“I thought you were tired of picking up after me.” 

Miguel wrapped her hand up in gauze, keeping it taut and compression-like. “I did say that, didn’t I? I lied.” He let go of (Y/N)’s hand, lifting the back of it up to his lips. “I’ve missed it a bit. My days feel empty when I do not have a little (Y/N) mess to deal with. Makes me feel useful. Feel better?”

“Yeah, I’m alright now. Thanks, Miguel.”

“Hmph,” he turned her hand around, now placing kisses on her bandaged palm. 

“What are you doing?” She giggled as his hair hit her arm while he peppered kisses over her hand.

“I’m just kissing your boo-boo, mi tesoro, let me work.” He smirked into her hand, knowing he was embarrassing her.

“You don’t have to– mm,” she hummed as he made his way up her arm with the kisses, stopping at her shoulder.

He pulled her shirt to the side, revealing her bare shoulder. He brought his mouth to it and teased his teeth over the exposed patch of skin, not quite biting into it. Miguel took (Y/N)’s face in his hand and kissed her, scraping his teeth against her bottom lip and nibbling on it. He slid his tongue over the raw lip, calming the sharp sting.

He baited her to open her mouth, wrapping his arms around her torso and grabbing her ass. She gasped into his mouth as he forced his tongue in, exploring it. 

“Fuck,” he broke away from the kiss briefly, “I can’t take it anymore, I’m gonna take you again in here, baby.” 

“But, people ‘re still in the lab, what if they catch us?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like that?” He pulled her pants to her ankles, working his hand past the band of her panties, and rubbed light, teasing circles on her clit. “Want everyone to watch me fuck you real good, don’t you?”

Her hips bucked into his whispering touches and she let out a guttural moan. “Nuh-uh, can’t let anyone see us, it’ll be embarrassing,” she gasped. 

“No? Then don’t let them catch us then. Keep quiet, muñequita.” He pushed a finger into her and curled it, chuckling at the choking groan she let out. “I know I make you feel good, but you don’t want everyone in the building to hear you, do you?”

(Y/N) shook her head and grabbed onto Miguel’s forearm while he drilled his fingers into her spongey g-spot. She felt his fingers leave just as warmth started to pool in her stomach, whining at the emptiness.

“Why did you take ‘em out?”

“Hey, don’t whine,” he shushed her, “I want you to finish on my dick, okay, baby?” He pulled her down from the countertop, flipping her around so that her ass pushed into his erection. He slipped his dick out of his pants and pulled her panties to the side, pushing his tip into her. “I don’t know if you deserve the whole thing yet,” he teased, “maybe I’ll make you finish with just the tip, hm?”

“No, please, will you please give me the whole thing? I promise, I’ll be good!”

“Oh, you promise?” He continued to slowly pump his cock’s head into her, inching in and out at a snail’s pace. “Gonna be a good girl?” Seeing the back of her head nod up and down, he pushed deeper into her, letting her walls envelope and suck his length in. “Aw, sweetness, I can feel you already clenching up. Gonna cum quick like a lil slut, huh?”

“Yes– God! Feels so good already, ‘m feelin’ so full now.” She rocked her hips, getting herself off on his cock. 

Pressing his hands into (Y/N)’s hips, Miguel took over and slammed her hips back and forth. Skin slapping and wet squelches filled the room. It drove him crazy.

“God, I can hear your wet little pussy so clearly. Mm, she’s talking to me, baby, saying how good she feels.”

(Y/N) threw her head onto her crossed arms, biting down on her own forearms to silence her ecstatic little mewls. “I’m so close,” she mumbled into her arms.

Miguel snapped her hips into her roughly and leaned forward. “Don’t give me that shy shit, speak up.”

She tried to repeat herself, only to find herself a babbling mess as she drenched his dick with her cum, legs shaking while they tried to support her body.

“Good girl, creaming all over my dick.” He groped her tits from the back, pinching them while she rode out her orgasm. “Mm, you gonna let me cum in you again?

“Yes– anything you want,” she arched into his touch, feeling him tweaking and twisting her buds.

He felt his pace become sloppy and rushed. He rutted deep into her heat and came, spurting his load right into her slick walls. “Fuck, ‘s so good,” he sighed, pulling out of her dripping cunt, watching a stream of his cum pool out of her. He picked her up, placing her back on her spot on the counter. 

“Still feel so good.” (Y/N) leaned forward onto his broad shoulder.

“Yeah? Bet I can make you feel even better next time,” he snickered right by her ear.

“Next time?”

“There’ll always be a next time with you.”

[its-time-to-write]

pleaseee, a part 2 to ‘ you don’t want to know me ‘

i love jamie tartt so much and hurt / comfort is just my fave kind of writing <3

Got a rude interesting comment in my inbox about my content. It’s kind of a bummer how one that isn’t nice attempts to overshadow all the love that people give. I’m glad people enjoy my writing, but ultimately I write it for myself. Requests are super awesome because it helps me grow as a writer, but I do only write the things that I want to. And I think that’s ok. I’m happy that there are a lot of people who like to read the things I like to write, and I understand those that don’t. You don’t have to be unkind about it.

Anyway, thank you @jellycolors for this ask! Y’all really do like a pt. 2 morning after fic, don’t you?😂

never wanted you to hate me

The sun is at the perfect angle to shoot a beam directly into your eyes, waking you up at exactly 7:32am, twenty-eight minutes before your alarm is supposed to go off. It’s Sunday, which is stupid, because you’re supposed to sleep in. Instead, you’re awake in bed, with your blankets feeling warmer and heavier than usual. You blink your eyes open to Jamie Tartt, shirtless and on top of you, fast asleep. You’re pretty much pinned under him, unable (or unwilling) to move him off. 

You wonder how long you should let Jamie sleep, and what he’s going to think when he wakes up like this. You’re sure this is a far cry from his usual mornings, usually with some model or something wrapped around him. You think since he’s the one holding you, it’s probably fine.

Jamie doesn’t wake up until your alarm goes off and when it does, he startles and almost rolls off the bed. You laugh at his look of utter confusion, as it takes him a moment to figure out where he is.

“You alright?” you ask, still grinning. Jamie, however, is not.

“Yeah,” he replies shortly. “Gonna get my things and get the fuck out of here.” He stalks out your bedroom without another word.

The way he’s acting is a far cry from the Jamie who asked you to sit on the bathroom sink last night so he wouldn’t be alone. In fact, it’s closer to the prickish version of himself that comes out on the pitch. You don’t like that he’s being that way with you, so you follow him to your living room.

“What the fuck was that?” you say to Jamie’s back as he bends down to get his jacket off the couch.

“Don’t know what you mean,” he replies, still not turning around.

You cross your arms. “You come here all- all sad and shit, fall asleep in my bed, tell me you fucking love me, and now you’re just leaving? What the fuck?”

Jamie stills. “I was just tired. Didn’t know what I was saying.”

That’s a lie, and you’re not going to let him get away with it.

You make your voice as steely as possible. “Jamie Tartt, if you think I’m fucking stupid as to think that I wouldn’t know you’re lying, then you might as well just go.”

Jamie turns to face you, and he looks a little wild. “Don’t think that just because we’ve known each other for thirteen years, that you fucking know me. Leave me the fuck alone.”

You squint at him. He’s wrong again. You do fucking know him. You know him so well that you understand exactly why he’s reacting this way. He hates being vulnerable in front of anyone, so now he’s trying to cut and run, pushing away one of the last people who actually cares about him.

Jamie’s still standing by the couch, clutching his Man City jacket, knuckles white. He’s still shirtless, breathing hard and waiting for you to fire back. You don’t.

Instead you say, so softly, “You know I never talk about you, right? Not gonna fuck off to some tabloid and tell them you said you love some girl you’ve known since you were ten.”

Jamie deflates a little so you continue. “We’re going to talk about all this. We’re going to talk about Roy Kent and your dad and the fact that your mum misses you so she calls me instead, and I’m going to make you breakfast and probably hold your hand and by the time you leave, you’re going to feel better and maybe actually feel fucking happy, because I see you in pictures, Jaim, and your smile really doesn’t reach your eyes anymore.”

“It’s fucked, ain’t it?” he says quietly. “I’m twenty-three, still letting me dad push me around.” He puts the jacket back on the couch and walks toward you. “And Roy Kent- he’s been my hero since I was a kid. He fucking hates me, and now he’s got a reason because I ended his fucking career. Me. And I have to live with that shit. It was the fucking worst game I’ve ever had to play. I hate being with City, especially since they all hate me for bein’ at Richmond. Pep’s the only one who didn’t say shit, just told me I was a good lad. I’ve been feeling all these emotional things and I didn’t want to go to me mum and I knew you lived ‘round here, so I thought I’d come over. You always made me feel better after seeing my dad.”

Jamie’s right in front of you now, rubbing a thumb on your cheekbone. You’re absolutely positive he can hear your heartbeat, and you dare to thread your arms around his waist.

“I loved you the first time I saw you. That’s why I was always hanging ‘round. Mum knew, she teased me about it for the longest time. Always tried to get me to say somethin’, but I weren’t ready. And you always fucking saw right through me, which freaked me the fuck out. Even now, I feel like- like you’re looking straight through me to my soul, and it’s fucking terrifying. But-” he takes a deep breath, “I also feel safe around you. I dunno, maybe it’s ‘cause I’ve seen you eat so much cake you had to lie down on the couch and sleep it off.” 

He’s grinning now, and so are you. 

“Hey,” you say, poking his chest, “I was ten and you thought you were all great because you were a year older than me and way too smart to do shit like that, as if you haven’t puked from drinking too much.”

Jamie groans. “Fucking hell, maybe you know too much about me.”

“Not possible, Tartt,” you reply. “Now, you need a shirt and I need to shower.”

He smiles. “I think you might need some help. Heard you hate showering alone.”

You laugh. “Alright, you knob. Guess it’s been long enough.” 

[king-bumis-armpit]

hihi, let me just say i love ur writing omg it’s so good

i was wondering if you could write a maiko fic about fire lord Zuko and fire lady Mai, post war, where zuko was put to do business and he comes back early after finding out mais been attacked by another assassination attempt (obv) and he goes borderline insane even if she’s just really chill about i, you don’t have to ofc just thought it was an idea 💗💗

You're my Peace

Summary: “Kiyi! It's good to see you again. Where are Mai and Izumi?” The Fire Lord was eager to see his wife and daughter. He had been forced to travel urgent diplomatic business, and it had been nearly a week since he was home.

Kiyi refused to break their embrace, “Izzy’s with mom and Mai… is okay. There was another attack.” Zuko’s world shifted. His inner fire turned to ice. His mind stopped.

Author’s note: HELLO!! Thank you, @darkacdemiasworld I absolutely loved this idea! Thank you so much for suggesting it <3 And thank you for your kind words! Zuko is such a protective person and if there’s one thing we all know about Mai it’s that she doesn’t need any protection, lol. I changed the premise just a tad. I thought it would be more dramatic if Zuko didn’t know what had happened until his return. But I hope you enjoy! Again, thank you so much for the ask!

My inbox is always open! Sometimes I take a while to respond, but I love all of the ideas!! I’m terrible at writing from scratch so they really help me. 

ALSO! Thank you to everyone who's reading right now. It brings me so much joy that I can share what I write with all of you. So thank you <3

This fic is cross-posted on Tumblr and ao3

TW: Stabbing, strangulation, death of a side character, and one raunchy joke. 

Expanded warning: Somewhat detailed description of an attack on Mai’s life and the resulting injuries, specifically stabbing and strangulation. It is also mentioned that a minor character dies. If these topics are triggering, please sit this one out. I’ll be posting something fluffy on Thursday or Friday for everyone to enjoy.

WC: 2,798

“Zuko!” His youngest sister barrelled into his arms as soon as he entered the palace. It was hard to believe she was already twenty.

“Kiyi! It's good to see you again. Where are Mai and Izumi?” The Fire Lord was eager to see his wife and daughter. He had been forced to travel to Yu Dao on urgent diplomatic business, and it had been nearly a week since he was home.

Kiyi refused to break their embrace, “Izzy’s with mom and Mai… is okay. There was another attack.” Kiyi finally pulled back and Zuko could see the anxiety in her eyes. His world shifted. His inner fire turned to ice. His mind stopped.

— —

“I need you to take a deep breath, Zuko.” Kiyi clutched the long sleeves of her robes so she wouldn’t fidget. She didn’t want Zuko to think she was upset, even if she was. 

“Where is Mai?” His voice sounded calm. Impassive, even. But Kiyi knew better. She could see the slight quiver of his bottom lip. He was blocking out every emotion in order to deal with the situation as quickly and efficiently as possible. It was a coping mechanism he’d picked up from his wife.

“Mai’s okay. She's gonna be fine.” 

“Good,” he was grinding his teeth. “Where is she?”

“It was another assassination attempt. The assailant was one of her father’s most loyal followers. All that stuff with the New Ozai Society happened so long ago that he wasn't even on the watchlist anymore. But–”

“Kiyi!” Zuko interrupted, “Where. Is. Mai.”

She put on her stern voice. “Fire Lady Mai told me to debrief you before letting you go to her. She said she would be too tired to answer all of your questions.” Zuko humphed but Kiyi could tell this put his mind at ease a bit. He knew that Mai was conscious and communicative at least. 

“This guy held a serious grudge against her for betraying her father. His journal had a bunch of misogynistic stuff about how she should have been prepared to sacrifice everything in her father's name.” 

He grabbed her shoulders, “Please, just get to the point!” Zuko was begging now. Kiyi really didn't need to be going into so much detail. She hated keeping her brother in suspense, but she was hoping he would regain some more of his composure before she told him what happened. And Mai really had asked her to explain everything to Zuko before she saw him. She didn’t want to make her sister-in-law relive her own attack in another round of questioning.

“He posed as a member of the kitchen staff, and took a tea tray up to Mai’s office. It seems she had fallen asleep at her desk. He stabbed her in the right shoulder, but Mai woke up before he could remove the knife. He– he tried to–” Kiyi felt tears sting her eyes. She had wanted to be the one to tell Zuko because she knew that if anyone else did he would probably light them on fire, either on accident or intentionally. But she hadn't accounted for her own feelings. She loved Mai too and this awful man– “he tried to strangle her. She has bruises…”

By this point Zuko's face was buried in his hands. He let out a strangled sob, and repeated his refrain, “Where is Mai?”

“She's in the spare room in the West Wing of floor 2.” The location was chosen because it was private and easily defensible, but still close to the Royal Healer’s office. However, Kiyi did not have the opportunity to explain as Zuko was already moving in that direction. Kiyi watched her brother run, formal robes trailing behind him, and she said a silent prayer to Agni that everything would be okay.

— —

He ran with abandon and burst through the door. “Mai!”

“Zuko, you're back.” She sounded as unaffected as ever. Hearing her voice for himself again jolted his world into focus once more. He stopped to catch his breath. Mai was sitting in the center of a large bed that he remembered well. This was the very same room where Mai delivered their child. So much pain, but in the end even more joy. 

He couldn’t say the same for today. Mai was wearing a white robe so that the healers could spot it if she began to bleed through her bandages. The wrappings peeked out through the collar of her clothing, and he wondered how far they extended. As Kiyi had said, Mai had haunting bruises on her neck. He could almost see the patterns of fingers. He inhaled sharply and looked away.

Azula and Ty Lee were in the room as well, sitting on either side of his wife. There was another chair halfway between Azula and the door, but Zuko strode past it and perched himself gently on the edge of Mai’s bed. He didn't want to cause her discomfort, but he would also die inside if Azula was sitting at his injured wife’s beside while he was relegated to the corner. He sat on her left to minimize disturbance to the wound.

“Are you really okay, darling?” Zuko searched her face for the slightest bit of pain, but as usual her expression betrayed nothing. 

Mai gestured for him to move closer to her. “I'm truly fine. I trust Kiyi filled you in?”

“She gave me the basics. I was… eager to see you.” Zuko forced himself back into composure. He needed to be strong right now. For Mai. He gently tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead.

“Bleh!” Azula made a face. “I thought you two would grow out of your sappy phase.” In the past years, his sister had a change of heart morally, but her attitude remained intact.

Zuko clenched his fists and felt his anger invigorate his chi. “I can and will have you escorted out of here right now!”

Mai took his right hand in her left and brought his knuckles to her lips for a quick kiss. “It’s okay, Zuko. Azula and Ty Lee have been looking after me.” She moved their joined hands into her lap. Zuko felt awful. His poor, injured wife was comforting him because he couldn’t keep it together around his sister.

Ty Lee stood from her place. “A calm aura is important for convalescence. I’ll have the servants bring us some–” she remembered the manner of Mai’s attack and her face went pale.

Zuko felt queasy, but Mai laughed. “Oh c’mon, we can’t let this ruin tea for us. What will Iroh say? The assassin could have just as easily been bringing dinner and I would still eat.”

Azula nodded, “We can’t project fear. In the next few days, we will have to make a public statement about the incident.” She eyed her brother warily. “Do you think you’ll be up to it?”

“Of course,” he stated with more bravado than he was feeling. “But I didn’t really let Kiyi explain the whole thing. When did this happen?”

Mai looked down at their hands. Azula answered for her, “It happened two nights ago. The day before yesterday.”

Zuko blinked. “You– you didn’t send word to me immediately?” He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. He didn’t want Mai to feel guilty or anything, but he also felt genuinely confused.

Mai leaned into his side, not meeting his gaze. “We didn’t want the public to know, and you were coming home so soon anyway. I didn’t want to worry you for nothing.”

Zuko pursed his lips. He wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but he also knew that it wasn’t the time to argue.

“Okay.” He managed a small smile and tilted Mai’s chin up so she was finally looking him in the eye. “Do you want me to write to Aang and Katara? They can probably be here in a day or two.”

Mai bit her lip, and Ty Lee piped up. “We already did. According to their return message, they’ll be here in a few hours.”

She told them before she told me. Am I really so useless as a husband? Zuko pushed the thoughts away. “That’s good. Hopefully Katara can speed up the healing process a little bit.”

He let his eyes wander to the bruises on her neck once more. Rage lit a match in his heart, and it took like dry kindling.

Mai, sensing the shift in his mood, reassured him, “Really Zuko, I’m alright.”

“As long as you’re alright, Firelily, then everything is fine.” But everything was not fine. He was going to visit that man in prison and light every single hair on his head on fire until he told him everything he knew about everyone who could be a potential threat. And then he was going to find those people and he would–

“Izumi missed you,” Mai said calmly. 

Some of the heat left Zuko’s body. Their baby girl was only six, and Zuko despised being away from her. Ever since her birth, his absences were few and far between. Of course, an assassin would capitalize on the opportunity. “I should check on her before bedtime. Poor thing. I’m sure she’s worried about you.”

“She is, but she acts so brave. I talked to her as soon as I was stable so she could see me, but I don’t want her to spend too much time in here. I don’t want her fixating on my injuries and having bad dreams.”

“Have you seen her today?” Zuko asked. 

Mai nodded, smiling in the radiant way she reserved for talking about her daughter. “We had breakfast together. She tried to feed me with her chopsticks so I wouldn’t have to move my right arm.”

Zuko felt tears welling up in his eyes again. Family breakfast was such a mundane thing. He didn’t realize how much those moments meant to him until he was faced with the prospect of their end.

Ty Lee was still standing awkwardly by Mai’s side, unsure if she was joking about wanting tea. But Azula took control of the situation. “How about we all have a family tea? Ty Lee, you can bring the tray. Zuko, you and I can get mom, Noren, Kiyi, and Izzy. Mai, you’re due for a check in with the royal healer. They said they should be able to dress you in something more substantial by now. If you’re feeling up to it, we’ll regroup here when the Healer leaves.”

Mai nodded again. “That sounds really nice, actually. Thank you, Azula.”

Zuko wished he had his sister’s confidence and calm. He should have been the one to think of that and get everyone in order. It was a very Fire Lord-ly thing to do. He, on the other hand, was about to cry or commit a felony. (Could you commit a felony as an absolute monarch? He was going to find out.)

— — 

As he and Azula made their way through the palace halls, he realized she was leading them off course. “Where are we going?”

She looked at him sharply. “We’re taking the long way. You need time to pull yourself together. I’m not taking you back to Mai until you’re fully under control.”

He huffed. “I thought I was doing a good job, all things considered. I had half a mind to march to the prison myself and find the pathetic–”

Azula raised her hand, stopping his tirade. She had led him to the fountain, where he had tackled Mai as children. His heart seized. If his sister was trying to make him less emotional, this was a bad choice.

“He’s not in prison, Zuko. I killed him,” Azula reported in a disinterested tone.

That brought him up short. “What– When– How– Are you… okay?”

Azula shook her head dismissively. “Of course I’m okay. Ty Lee and I were entertaining Izzy, but she started getting fussy. I volunteered to go find Mai. When I opened the door, that bastard had his hands on her throat. She pushed him off and I… I filled him with enough lightning to arc across the ocean.”

Zuko’s mind was racing. He hadn’t been there, but Azula was. Would he have been able to do what she did? To take a life? In his anger, he’d thought about it, but he had never followed through. Even in the war. When Uncle spoke about his experiences, he could tell they haunted him. 

He put a hand on Azula’s shoulder. “Umm… Thank you. And I’m here if you need to talk.”

Azula rolled her eyes. “Mai’s my friend too, remember? Even without you, she would still be a sister to me. It was the least I could do after everything in our past.”

Zuko withdrew his arm. “I know that. But I’m still grateful. If you hadn’t been there…” He choked on his words. “Azula, I wasn’t there! I’m her husband and I wasn’t even there! She didn’t even tell me. I don’t understand. Doesn’t she trust me? Why can’t I do anything right?” The tears were flowing now and he collapsed on the ground. 

Azula lowered herself awkwardly beside him. Comfort was not her strong suit. “Listen, Mai loves you very much and she trusts you completely. Why she does those things is beyond me.” Zuko shot his sister a watery glare, but she continued. “But she made the decision to not contact you because she’s the Fire Lady. She knew you would be forced to choose between her and your duty to the Nation.”

Zuko took several deep breaths until he trusted himself to speak. “I still don’t get it, Azula. Doesn’t Mai know that I will always choose her over everything else? I took a vow before Agni to put her first in all things.”

Azula patted his back, hesitantly. “Yes, I think she knows that quite well. In fact, I think that’s why she made the choice for you. Whether she was right to do so or not, Mai wants what's best for you and for the country more than she wants what’s best for her. She’s not someone who thinks of her own pain as consequential. Her wounds aren’t fatal, so she’s hardly taken account of them.” 

Zuko sighed. When did his wife get so altruistic? No, she was always like that. She always put him first, even when they were angsty teens who hated the world. When had he stopped noticing? He needed to be attentive and start listening to the words that she left unsaid. When she was fully healed, they could have a long conversation about communication. Again.

He wiped away his tears. Mai was alright. The man who hurt her was dead. His family was safe. And Azula… was empathetic now? Perhaps life wasn’t so bad after all. 

“Change of plans,” Azula’s voice brought him back to the present. She was standing above him now. “I’ll find Ty Lee and tell her to delay tea. You go back to your wife and sit with her for a bit. But we’ll be joining you in an hour so don’t do anything obscene.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “She’s injured. Have some decorum. But, thank you. That was almost sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Azula offered a hand and helped him off the ground. “Don’t get used to it.” She punched his arm, harder than playful, and the two went their separate ways. 

— —

When Zuko was readmitted to Mai’s room, he found she was indeed wearing a slightly heavier red robe. He took it as a good sign that the bleeding was under control. The healer had also secured loose bandages on her neck, purely to hide the marks.

“Hey,” Mai greeted him with a small voice.

“Hi.” Zuko resumed his place next to her on the bed, even though they were now alone and the chairs were vacant.

“Are you mad at me?” Mai asked. “I didn’t want to hide anything from you but I knew you would worry and get all worked up for nothing.”

Zuko didn’t think an attack on her life was nothing. He took a lock of her hair and twisted it around his finger. “I could never be mad at you. Not really. I’m angry at myself.”

His wife looked surprised. “Still? After all this time?”

“No,” he laughed humorlessly. “Again. I wish I was better at anticipating your needs. I want to always be exactly what you need. I wish I could have been by your side and prevented all this.”

Mai held his cheek. “You are always exactly what I need. You’re Zuko.”

“And you’re Mai. My fearless Fire Lady.”

“And we’re still here.” Mai brought him in for a kiss, and for a few minutes he felt peace.

[racinggirl]

You can tell that English isn’t your first language, it’s more to do with word choice and phrases used than anything grammar wise, it reads more formal than conversational. Similar to what would be expected in school/professional setting. You’ll get there, it’ll just take time.

But yeah the medical timeline was the major criticism for me, and the reason for my DNF. It made very little sense, I wasn’t sure if they had been in a coma for 4 years and then just suddenly died together or if they had been recovering and then just died. I felt like clarifications were needed, and maybe a little research if you’re going to be using something like this as a plot device. Being as polite as possible, while the idea was good, the execution was fanfiction in all the worst ways.



Look, ‘anon’. I can see where you’re coming from. As I said, it’s not my best work, I admit that. My writing has been on hold for a while due to some personal reasons.

However. That does not give you the right to be rude. You may not have wanted it to come across as rude. But the things you said were everything but nice, nor were they seen as a ‘tip’. It was straight up bullying what you did. I understand people have opinions, and you’re entitled to give your opinion, honestly, I get it. But you are not entitled to be rude about it to someone you don’t even know.

You have no idea how much I struggle with ‘hate’ because yeah, that’s what it was. You may like more ‘conversational’ fanfics, others don’t. That’s personal and that’s okay. But the hate you spit out on me is just not okay. I’ve always said my biggest fear is people not liking me, and that includes my work or the things I do.

Yes, I should have possibly put more thought into it, which is why I already mentioned the warnings and the fact I wasn’t sure if this was something I’d be proud of. But straight up saying it’s ‘poorly google translated’ or that it’s the worst fic you’ve read? That’s not okay. I’m trying. I really am, and next time, think before you slide into someone’s inbox and spit stuff like this out.

There’s so many people supporting me, which I highly appreciate. I needed that. Because even though I know I shouldn’t let some random anon determine how I’m feeling. I do. And it sucks. You don’t know my story, so stop being rude about it.

I absolutely have no intention to be rude, and this isn’t who I normally am. But honestly, if you have the guts, stop being an anon. It’s pathetic. If you hate on someone’s work, be clean about it and don’t hide behind that ‘anon’ button. If you really mean good, and you were just trying to give me tips (which I’d appreciate if you had done it in a more polite way, even if you came in as an ‘anon’), that’s more genuine doing so in replies, sending me a dm so nobody can hate on you for your tips if that’s what you’re scared of.

Just. Don’t. Do. This.

It happened now, you can’t take it back. I’m not expecting you to apologize, because I don’t need it. I’m just hoping you learn from this, because so have I. I will try to not let some anon come at me, calling my stories shitty, when all the haters can do is hide behind that anon button and name out the things that could hurt someone’s feelings. It’s. Rude.

As for this, I hope your day will be better than it was when you woke up or when you wrote that shitty ‘tip’, because I feel sorry for you.

Thank you.

[kindlingkeen]

I think something that annoys me the most about quite a few Joker Dies/Jason Comes Home fics is that they think that as soon as the Joker is dead, Jason will stop killing. Like, doesn't matter if he's the one to kill the Joker or not, as long as the Clown dies, that's it, problem solved, Jason can go home with no issue because obviously he has no more reason to kill!

and it always has me ???????????????? the Joker is not the reason Jason kills? the Joker dying takes out a massive threat to the citizens of Gotham and I don't doubt it would make Jason personally feel better just in general, but there are still horrible, horrible people around and doing things that Jason believes means they don't deserve to keep living? Just because the Clown's dead doesn't mean all the other issues Jason deals with as the Red Hood are going to disappear wtf

Anon, I’m so sorry it too me forever to answer this ask!! Tumblr disappeared it from my inbox after I read it initially, and then it just reappeared this morning! I hope you’re still around to see this.

That narrative has me going ???????? right along with you. I don’t understand it. I’ve thought about it a lot and the best I can come up with is that sometimes authors are more interested in telling a story about Jason reintegrating with the family than they are in being true to Jason’s character. Because when you think about everything Jason’s been through, his motivations and perspective, the choices he’s made, it’s actually really hard to make him play happy house with the bats and keep his character authentic. If you’re out there in the void reading this and feel differently, reblog or leave a comment with your thoughts, I’d really like to hear them.

As I see it, here are two pieces to your ask: 1) Joker dying. 2) Jason killing.

First, Joker. Honestly, imo, focusing on the Joker dying completely misses the point. Canonically, if Jason really wanted Joker dead above all else, he could have killed him in Lost Days. He could have shot him in the face the first time he saw him in UtRH. It’s not about Joker. It’s about Bruce. Bruce’s choices, Bruce’s actions, Bruce’s feelings (or lack thereof). Taking it one step further, I actually think that deep down there’s a part of Jason that doesn’t want the Joker dead. Because once he is, that’s it. The possibility of Bruce making things right (right in Jason’s eyes, at least) is gone forever.

Second, Jason killing. I think Jason kills because, at his core, his priority is victims. He’s willing to take that final step because he sees it as necessary for existing victims and to prevent future victims in the making. I think it’s possible to put Jay in a scenario where he chooses not to kill for other reasons. But it’s not something he’s ever going to repent for, it’s not a ‘suddenly seeing the light’ sort of situation. I think these two panels from Detective Comics #975 are a good example of that. Although I take issue with the ‘I still have enough respect for this place’ line.

So, yeah, those are some of my thoughts on Jason, the Joker, and the Red Hood’s lethality. I’m still getting the hang of these meta rambles. Hopefully that was coherent enough, lol.

Thanks so much for the ask, anon! I really enjoyed thinking this through! 💙

[writing-for-life]

Hi love, how are you?

Would you like to talk a little about what Morpheus finds attractive, sexy in a woman?

opinions, theories, anything aaaaaa

Hi friend, always so lovely to see you in my inbox! And everyone else: Send me asks, too, I love them!

Oh, an ask about Dream’s sexual/romantic proclivities and his “type”—the excitement!

You could of course read my fic, then you’ll know what he wants/needs 😜

In all honesty though: I’m not in his head, so who can tell? I guess we can only go by certain hints we get in the comics and draw our own conclusions. So here come a few thoughts:

I think he has a thing for dreamers? Sounds obvious I guess, but many of the women we know he got involved with were women with strong connections to the Dreaming (Killalla, Nada, Calliope, even Thessaly), for a multitude of reasons. And having that connection is, by extension, a connection to him. If we’re getting conceptual about it: They are actually, in a way, pursuing him first (and in the case of Nada and even Killalla and Thessaly, we are basically told so in a way). Which then leads to his courting them, because they are interested in him. And I think that’s something very integral to his being: He is extremely, devastatingly lonely. He craves not being lonely. So the very fact that someone would even contemplate being interested in him, giving him their time of day (or night), would probably already mean a lot to him.

I think we can also see a pattern for women who are fairly strong-willed and speak their mind. Whether he always likes that is a different question, but Titania, Alianora, Nada, Calliope, Thessaly are all prone to talk back and not take shit.

I’ll leave the whole Desire-involvement out of the equation because that skews things. He tries to avoid D/desire because of the sibling-conflict yet definitely feels it. So I neither subscribe to the theory that he’s asexual nor aromantic (some corners of the fandom think he is, fair enough). Especially not aromantic. That’s a contradiction in terms. He’s Dream. Dreaming is idealised and unreal. In love, that’s the very definition of romance—having pink goggles on and aspiring to something that’s not grounded in reality (one of the reasons his relationships ultimately all fail).

So I think he’s prone to romantic gestures (we know that from especially Calliope) and would probably also appreciate them from his lover? That also means: If you want to keep it going, there’d probably always need to be something that keeps him interested. Questioning even (but not in the way like with Thessaly, because she completely removed herself). By definition of his being the unreal, reality setting in is the very thing that makes it all come crashing down. Push/pull, back and forth is probably something he secretly likes? It wouldn’t surprise me if he enjoys a certain amount of drama—again, not the type that makes it all come crashing down, but just enough to keep him on his toes and wondering. Just enough to keep the illusion of impermanence and striving for the impossible going, but not so much that it really turns into an issue. And that’s exactly the problem, because that sounds like a fairly tricky line to walk if you ask me. And exhausting 🤣

Now to the more speculative side:

I think he desperately needs someone who removes the proverbial stick from his arse. He needs to learn to laugh again (if he ever did so in the first place). With others and at himself. I spent a lot of time in my fic to build on that. Ultimately, I think he needs to feel safe enough to let his guard down completely with someone, and I honestly don’t think he ever experienced that with any of his lovers. And for that, he needs to be able to trust. Could be via shared experience of sorts, but I think most of all, he needs someone who truly listens and doesn’t try to change him. Because he is D/dream. Being perpetually strange and prone to be misunderstood is the essence of his being, and he needs someone who is comfortable enough with that fact. So weirdly enough, I think he would change if people stopped trying to make him change, if that makes any sense? He needs acceptance, not blunt or subtle force. I guess you can give dreams the space to change and grow, or you can try to control them—and the latter just doesn’t work. We also see that with him—his rigid sense of control is ultimately his downfall, not what truly helps him. And I think that extends to everything he is, including his relationships.

As for what he likes in terms of bedroom shenanigans (and the purely speculative, but obviously what Tumblr seems to be most interested in 🤣): In my mind, he’s the ultimate switch, if you will. He’ll get a kick out of everything that turns you on, because he is D/dream, and I think it is his very essence to also be that for sex dreams (we don’t need to talk about Calliope’s inappropriate speech at the Wake in this context 🙈).

BUT, and I think that’s an important one: Maybe, just maybe, he needs something that is just for him? Giving in to his own desires (there’s that messed up sibling relationship again). Giving himself permission to do that by being given permission. Be very afraid of my sequel… 🤣 No, that sounds all wrong because my sequel is really not about that alone and will be reliably sad and heavy in parts, like the first one, but I wouldn’t be a romance writer if I didn’t explore relationship dynamics through sex. Because sex is never just about sex 😉

@morpheusbaby3 ask answered

[aloysiavirgata]

Thanks to @numinousmysteries for tagging me! I had never checked these stats before!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

92

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

484,620

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I’ve written for Hannibal, Battlestar Galactica, The Fall, and The X-Files, but only The X-Files at this point.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Parting Glass (smut)

Animus Possidendi (dark smut)

The Common Fate of All Things Rare (casefile, cowritten)

Lacuna (casefile)

This Her Fever (cancer arc)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes and no. Not like I should. I am so deeply, truly grateful for every single one.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Well, I killed William in Inhaling the Different Dawn, but that wasn’t at the end.

Maybe Where The Vines Cling Crimson? Scully’s cancer comes back and her fate is ambiguous. And I had Scully kill Emily in Alabaster Stones. But I think that was the right ending for both of them.

As a mother? A Basket of Reeds, where Scully gives William away. I can’t even reread it without a lump in my throat, man.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Tent of Shelter is fluffy and lovely gets a lot of love, and was inspired by a STUNNING manip by @avocadoave but I personally think In The Gale. It’s the one that, to me, feels the most like a grownup relationship of two people processing some trauma. I think that’s an ending that’s happy and also real - like “I don’t love being broken, but I can survive being broken with you.” Two abeyances that lean…

Foxfire for similar reasons. I real love that little story, which I wrote thanks to @perplexistan

I’m 43. I’ve been married for well over two decades and let me tell you that young love is a gift and mature love is a craft.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Some! And that’s really great too, that people read words I wrote and felt so passionately that they left me words about those feelings. What a strange but profound compliment!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do. PWP isn’t my personal taste so even though I wrote a LOT of smut for the old pornbattles at LJ I wanted the smut to still tell a story.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I can’t say it’s especially crazy, but Fern Hill is a Mulder/Stella Gibson crossover. There are a few little ficlets with XF/Silence of the Lambs crossovers in my Inbox Prompts series.

Oh fuck! Wait! I wrote a Fall/Hannibal/XF crossover called Anthemoessa where Stella, Scully, and Bedelia all meet. Okay that’s it. That wins.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Years ago. God, isn’t that sad? To need positive reinforcement that much?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! It was SUCH a compliment!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have - The Common Fate of All Things Rare

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Mr. Virgata and me. Followed by Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, who literally invented the word. ❤️

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Fisher King

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think I do pretty good banter and my education makes me pretty good at the sciencey bits.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I get too lost in descriptions and I try too hard to be clever. I do my best to self edit but sometimes I reread things and I’m like oh my GOD SHUT YOUR PRETENTIOUS ASS UP.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I’ve done it for Bedelia and Hannibal in Italian. I’m not sure I understand the question?

19. First fandom you wrote for?

TXF, my one true love.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I don’t know that I have a favorite per se. I am most proud of the ones that challenged me to do something outside my comfort zone. Samson is one of mytop fives even though it’s Mulder/Diana. I think I did a nice job. I also wrote Pair of Aces/Double or Nothing which is Scully/Byers.

But I do really love the world of Petrichor and Singing of Mount Abora, and I like the cases.

[ess-presso]

quick talk about comment etiquette.

thought that this wouldn’t happen again , tbh. like i genuinely thought it was a one and done situation. i really really really hate this . but here we go -

whoever the fuck you are , i genuinely fucking hate you right now. maybe that’s an overreaction, but after a really suckish anon (was it you ? be honest.) , i’ve kind of lost all my patience.

so let’s take this apart , quickly.

“i waited a whole fucking month for this shit” - first of all , i’m sorry about that. i apologised , and i didn’t mean to take so long , but i have a life. like i am a person. i have exams , i have lessons , i have stuff to do , okay ?? and furthermore ,, i do not owe you anything. this is fanfic. which i write for myself & my pocket friends . so i don’t quite know who you think you are coming into my comments , demanding stuff like this. go write your own stuff , dude. do not ,,,, and i mean do not ,,, spend time and energy on leaving shit like this into my inbox.

“that doesn’t even make sense” - don’t insult my story maybe that’s the first thing. again fanfic = for fun. not a book review , don’t have a team of editors , just me and my laptop. that is it. second of all - this story had a time jump in it. there are a couple of weeks omitted from the fic , because i didn’t want to write another filler chapter. there’s literally no reason to be so fucking mean. like genuinely why ? i just know it was you who left that ask.

the thing is , i’m not making you read my story. like at this point , i’d really you rather not. this story isn’t for cunts who leave mean comments, but just for anyone who feels like it. like you don’t like it ?? tell your friends , tell your parents whatever. don’t tell me. don’t leave arseholish comments like this and be all ‘ooohhh i’m a story connoisseur because i read ff of gay wizards online oooh’ like who do you think you are ??

to my lovely fanfic writers. - sorry if anyone like this comments on your stories. i got two mean comments and i’m a second away from burrowing myself into a hole in the ground and never coming back up again. like genuinely.

maybe i’m making a big deal out of this. but i thought i might as well nip it in the bud before it turns into something more. stop harassing me , ‘loonyformoony81’ !! i have blocked you ! thank you and please leave me alone !!